Get Lucky
by barricadeboyznthehood
Summary: Paige Arkin needs help with a case she's been working. This requires Mike Warren to be a pole-dancer and seduce the major leader of a crime syndicate and drug ring.


**[A.N Written for the Graceland Kink Meme as part of a series of really kinky prompts. Hope you enjoy. For the purpose of continuity with the other prompts that I will be filling, let's just say Mike is bisexual but leans more towards women in preference but he has a soft spot for Johnny and Briggs specifically. Also, the other prompts, the reason for all their sexuality/sexual acts in the next works, will be because of a truth or dare that goes wrong after Paige tells everyone about Mike's "help" with her recently closed case, i.e. This fic. So, there will be some continuity throughout the fics but they're also separate entities. ]**

Get Lucky

Mike isn't sure how it happens. If he were to pinpoint the exact moment where chaos ensued and all hell broke loose it would be the moment Paige sauntered up to him, laid a well-manicured hand on his shoulder and asked, "Can you help me with a case?"

Mike didn't huff, sigh or roll his eyes like the other agents would, instead, he looked at her expectantly and asked, "What can I do?"

Paige grinned, wide, her grin reminding him of the big bad wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.

"Thanks, Levi."

By this time, Mike knew Paige was informed that his real name was Mike. She still fell into the habit of calling him Levi. He didn't mind that much anymore.

Paige was about to walk away when Mike began flipping through the file, his eyes falling onto a few choice words.

"A stripper?" Mike choked out, looking incredulously at Paige.

"What?" She gave a non-guilty shrug, "You asked if us girl agents...you know...we don't you know but we can do this." She grinned and gestured to her breasts, "Gotta use 'em if you have 'em."

Mike still looked confused and taken aback by Paige's assumption that he could do this and that girl agents regularly did that.

"Isn't that...sexist? Mostly middle-aged men and newly-turned eighteen year old guys just staring at girls with barely anything on." Mike voiced his opinion as a half- question.

"Only if you let it be and only if you can't kick their asses while topless and in stilettos." Paige reasoned and Mike wasn't sure if she was joking or not. He assumed she wasn't and he gave a curt nod.

"You're coming with me, right? This is your primary case, you uh, work at the..." Mike's eyes scoured the page, "The Neighborhood?" He paused, "Really, they need a strip club that? It seems a little misleading. What happened to all the cheesy names?"

"Go into strip clubs often, Levi?" Paige teased Mike with a look.

Mike set the file on the kitchen countertop and shook his head, "Not as often as you think." He answered with a small laugh. He let the silence sit between them for a moment, "I'll help you but you better not tell the other agents. Maybe Charlie." He reasoned, "If the guys find out...well...you know."

"Of course, Mike." Paige told him. In that moment, he knew she was lying.

The Neighborhood was nicer than the one- yes one- strip club Mike had been dragged to by his college buddies back in Virginia. It reminded Mike vaguely of the clubs back in the 1950's and 60's with their private rooms, velvet ropes, pristine stage and magnificent bar stocked with all the best imported liquor.

Mike's cover was that he was a new "Trainee" for a position as a duet act with one of Paige's "friends", another undercover agent only in the police force by the name of Tamee. A few of the regulars, 8:00 p.m. every tuesday and thursday, were part of a Eastern European and Western European UN of the drug underworld. They dealt in the highest and most lethal of narcotics, heroin, meth, cocaine, ectasy, DMT, LSD, etc. They covered the whole spectrum and were nearly untouchable. Paige and Tamee, combining undercover forces and striking an agreement, had almost penetrated the United Nations of Narcotics; however, the ringleader and president of the merger had a penchant for young military soldiers and both women knew Mike was the perfect pretender for someone eager to please. Plus, he did work out a lot.

By nine at night the club was packed. Mike almost felt claustrophobic as he walked into the club, the bouncers opening up the door for him as he was dressed casually in t-shirt and jeans and flashed his club card. His ears were assaulted with the bumping bass of not rap but the X Ambassador's "Down with me", it sounded vaguely of a slightly country voice mixed with indie beats and rap swagger. Mike pursed his lips assessing the music and he figured he'd be dancing to a wide variety of songs.

He was nervous to say the least. Mike pushed his way past the numerous customers, waitresses and bartenders. He felt a chill pass through him as he noticed a tough looking group in the corner, all broad shoulders, beady eyes and beards. One man stood out from the rest, he was leaner with piercing dark brown eyes and wavy brunette hair. That must be the ringleader with his goons.

Mike inhaled shakily and exhaled once he saw Paige and Tammee, dressed in waitresses uniforms.

"You're not working tonight?" Mike asked, his dark blond eyebrows raising up in confusion.

Paige and Tammee shared a look, "No, we're not." Tammee, the police officer with her blond wavy hair in a bun shook her head.

"But, you are." Paige whispered.

"What?" Mike raised his voice and he hurriedly looked around, "What? No. No, I can't. I thought we were working this case...together." He looked at the two women, "You can't just throw me up there without a reason..."

"You already know your cover, Levi." Paige whispered, "You're filling in for us, trying to train for a new position as a male stripper rather than all the girls in here. Try to bring in the girl clientele as well since Magic Mike and you know, we're only here for the bust..."

"No pun intended." Tammee winked and Mike snorted with derision.

"I've never done this before." He tried to reason with them.

"You'll learn quickly."

"They'll boo me off the stage, they won't...hire me back." He whispered hurriedly as the two women pulled him into the small alcove in the back known as the "dressing room".

"You can do it, Warren." Tammee placed a small hand on his shoulder and shook him, "Paige tells me you work out a lot. Just go with the music, really feel it, don't worry about looking stupid. As long as you have those abs and a look in your eye, you'll make money."

"And more besides money, you'll get a chance to speak with the perp. Use one of the private rooms in the back."

"W-wait, take him in the back? Are you crazy?" Mike hissed, "What if he's armed?"

"Aren't you?" Tammee reasoned.

"It's kind of difficult to be armed without anyone seeing when you have hardly any clothes on." He sneered and Tammee clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"We've put something in a specific room in case anything goes wrong." Paige informed him, "The room second on the right." She pursed her pink lips, "Now, go out there and work that stage." She chuckled.

"I don't know why you two trust me so much." He sighed.

Tammee shook her head, "I don't but she does." She jeered a thumb in Paige's direction and Paige nodded, sifting through her waitress apron for a second before giving Mike a kiss on the cheek, "Get out there soldier." She languidly saluted him.

You can do this, Mike Warren reminded himself as he heard the thumping music from before transition into a sort of intermission. He was re-examining his wardrobe of no rip-away shirt and tight shorts. He had opted out of the speedo looking g-string, he didn't want to expose that much to the crowd.

The things I do for Graceland. He muttered to himself as the music changed, somewhat thankfully, to Daft Punk's newest track "Get Lucky." Mike was at least familiar with this tune, and he appreciated Daft Punk enough, that he could "fake" his pole- dancing abilities.

He rolled his eyes as Paige grabbed a microphone and announced him as their newest arrival, "Magic Mike."

"Really, Paige?" He muttered, shaking his head as he proceeded to stand on the stage, a strip of runway with a pole in the middle, surrounded by tables with men and women alike. The booths were against the wall of the venue and were the VIP tables. Mike's eyes ghosted quickly to the UN of Narcotic group in the booths.

The music started and Mike walked as sultrily as he could to the pole. His palms were sweaty and he discreetly rubbed his palms against his tight shorts. He took a deep breath, giving the ringleader a wink before he started. The only experience he had with poles was when he, as a freshman, was in Rent the musical. Instead of entering the JV football team like he wanted to, his parents urged him to at least participate in one artistic thing. Mike was glad they made him, it wasn't a terrible experience, but he preferred sports.

He wrapped his right hand, now sweat free, on the pole and waited till the chorus to swing around the pole, his legs wrapping around the metal. He moved his body as fluidly as he could when he stood up, raising his hips against the pole as if it were a person and biting his lower lip.

As time went on, he became bold and more courageous, moving towards the crowd and even letting some women put singles in his shorts. He leaned down to whisper something filthy in a young woman's ear and she blushed. He grinned, now not as awkward, merciless magic mike was emerging. He didn't forget the task at hand, once his song was over, with an exaggerated swing around the pole and a teasing pull of his shorts to reveal a hip bone, he left the stage.

"You did alright, kid." Tammee congratulated him, handing the young panting agent a water bottle.

"Thanks." Mike huffed out, taking a deep swig of his water bottle, "Jesus, these girls have a lot of athleticism." He noted with a grin.

"That they do." Paige met them in the back dressing room with a smile. She tucked a piece of blond hair behind her ear. "He wants to see you. Mr. Kramer." She told him, "You may be able to help us win this."

Mike nodded, "Is he already in the second room to the right?" He asked.

"Yepp, just head on in there, kid." Tammee told him, "The gun's under the bar counter if you need it. Just use it to scare him. He's not the one who carries the guns in his group."

"Right." Mike chuckled deeply and thanked them both, heading out towards the second door on the right. He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling vulnerable in his shorts and no shirt.

He opened the door and Mr. Kramer, all lean in a dark black suit-jacket, dress shirt and jeans, smile at him.  
"You were very good for your first time." Kramer noted.

"First time here." Mike replied, not wanting to seem too inexperienced.

"Right, of course." Kramer nodded, his hand draped around the couch he was sitting on before he gestured for Mike to come closer, "Sit down." He paused, surveying the young man before him, " Mike, is it?" He raised a dark eyebrow.

"Yes. I prefer to stand." Mike murmured.

"Are you sure?" Kramer whispered, producing a wad of bills from his pocket and setting them down on the table, "I heard apart from this place, you participate in...other activities."

Right, Paige mentioned something about a prostitution ring in the men's business, Kramer was obviously looking for something else. Mike figured he could play the part.

He placed a hand on the wad of dollar bills but didn't think to move them anywhere, he didn't have any pockets as it were. He smiled at Kramer and promptly sat down on his lap, his hands placing themselves on the other side of Kramer's legs.

"You know what I do for a living, now, you tell me..." Mike countered Kramer's question from a moment before.

"Come on, I'm paying-" Kramer tried to interrupt Mike but the young man ground his hips against the mafia leader.

"For what?" Mike whispered lowly against Kramer's ear, "This?" He accentuated the word with another movement of his hips, his length pressing against the tightness of his shorts, rubbing against Kramer's own length trapped in his jeans.

"Yes." Kramer swallowed thickly, trying not to lose concentration.

"I don't want your money, I want information..." Mike told Kramer, pulling his face away from the man's neck which reeked of heavy men's cologne.

Kramer's eyes flickered with confusion before he smile slowly, "Oh, you know about my business"

"And your men. You're very popular around here." Mike whispered, continuing to move his hips, surprised by his own body's reaction to the friction of fabric on fabric.

"Really?" Kramer acted smug, smirking at Mike's words, "How popular?" He leaned up to try and kiss Mike's lips and the agent pulled away, "Mm, not now." He murmured, ocean blue eyes catching Kramer's dark ones.

"Very. So much that my friends and I may be in need of your services." Mike told the other man, his hands now pressing into the Kramer's jeans.

"What sort of services?" Kramer asked.

"We need some meth." Mike stated with a nonchalant shrug, his hips continuing to undulate against Mr. Kramer's. "Would we be able to get about 500 grams, Mr. Kramer?"

"Please, call me Seth." The man grinned and Mike clicked his tongue to his teeth.

"Seth. Could that be possible?" Mike almost held his breath.

"For you? Sure. But..." Seth gestured down to his lap and smirked.

Mike inwardly rolled his eyes and hoped he didn't mean a blow job. He wouldn't do that. Instead, Mike unzipped Seth's jeans, freeing his half-hard length before he licked his lips in a over zealous manner.

"Are your men jealous of you?" Mike whispered his thumb circling the head of Seth's length before he gripped the muscle firmly and began to stroke it.

"Mm, how could they not?" Seth gave a hearty laugh and his eyes began to close as Mike's hand moved faster against the man's length.

"Of course, a big shot like you." Mike whispered close to Seth's ear, biting it and tugging at the skin.

Seth gave a contented moan as Mike's hand moved faster, slicking up the length with the crime boss's pre come, the young agent's own hips twitching at the sight of the man's sizeable cock.

Seth hummed lowly in his throat at the contact, he was close, he could feel it and he didn't want to dirty up the room or Mike's clothes.

"But was it difficult?" Mike asked, hoping Seth would be relaxed enough to let the words flow naturally.

"Difficult?" Seth asked, his eyes squeezing shut as Mike blew cool air on his length and watched the man's cock twitch in anticipation of a hot mouth.

"To merge the two groups. I heard you have your own outfit and you merged with another drug organization." Mike murmured, the sight of Seth's hard length slick with pre-come enticing him to think of another man's length and he groaned, his own eyes begging to shut at the thought of Briggs's or Johnny's cock or even the tight fit of Charlie's cunt.

He inwardly reminded himself of the task and swallowed thickly.

"Of course, h-h-ow wouldn't it be?" Seth murmured, his voice cracking and his breath hitching as he felt his abdomen well up with desire.

"How did you do it?" Mike asked, urging the man closer to the end. His hand moved faster, his lips threatened to wrap themselves around Seth's length.

"I took care of someone..."

"Who?"

"Marco."

Marco. He was the leader of the other organization. He probably killed him, Mike thought.

"Marco?" He asked, sounding innocent.

"He ran the other business." Seth noted, "Let's not talk about this right now..."Seth panted, "I want you to swallow all of my-" Before he completed the sentence, he came, and the door burst open with a thud.

Paige, Tammee and another police officer all looked shocked as they say Mike Warren sitting on the lap of a crime boss, Seth's hard length now flaccid and spent, the come plastered all over Merciless Mike's fabulous abs.

The other police officer was the first to recover shouting, "On your knees. Hands behind your back."

Paige flashed a badge at Seth and the crime boss pushed Mike to the ground, instructing him with a hiss to put his goddamn hands behind his back. Mike had the foresight of mind to politely zip up the man's pants before he was pushed to the ground. He was a dangerous crime boss, but he deserved some dignity.

Both were lead out to separate FBI and police cars. Seth went out in the police car and Mike towards the FBI. Mike was left in his gold booty shorts, his lack of a shirt, and his hair messed up. He was panting lightly, both from what just happened and the unusual force Paige used on him when she clapped the handcuffs on his wrists.

When the FBI car door closed, Paige eyed Mike with a grin.

"Nice shorts." Paige whistled lowly.

Mike shook his head and sighed, "Paige, really?" He gestured to his hand cuffs.

"You know as much as I do that you need to look authentic." She cocked her head to one side and studied him, "It's a good look on you. All of this. You weren't half bad out there, tiger." She growled the nick-name out and he chuckled.

"Just don't tell the others." Mike whispered.

"Don't tell them, what?" She teased, twirling her dirty blond hair around her finger.

"Paige...:" Mike warned her.

"That you were sitting on the lap of a major crime boss in gold booty shorts with your fabulous abs giving this guy probably the best hand job he's ever had?" Paige teased, "That's what you don't want me to tell them."

Mike buried his head in his hands, "Exactly." He muttered, not sure of what happened back in The Neighborhood or what washed over him when the sight of Seth's length overwhelmed him with unsettling feelings of his Graceland partners.


End file.
